Staying Shrouded
by sommerson
Summary: An understatement: the Hogwarts population very much appreciates James S. Potter. But Elena Baydose and her friends? Quite the opposite. Of course no one would know that because they are the definition of 'reckless but invisible' and that's the way they like it. Just trying to navigate teenage life as her own person, Elena is hardly impressed when James decides to meddle... JSP/OC
1. Chapter 1

Hogwarts changed a lot after the Second Wizarding War. So did the entire Wizarding society, or so it seems. For a start, Muggle Studies (or WW Studies for muggle borns) became compulsory until after fourth year. Wizards are no longer ignorant of the muggle ways, they've even picked up a few tricks (thank GOD they have pens now). But it still seriously baffles me how they don't tag onto the best parts of all: laptops and mobiles.

It must have taken some tricky magic to get electronic devices working on Hogwarts' grounds but I thank whichever blessed soul who thought of it. They save my life daily.

Oh! Sorry, I'm being rude. My name is Elena Baydose. I am a muggle-born seventh year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I was sorted into Gryffindor but to be honest, houses don't count for much these days. Apart from then guys and their Quidditch and the goody-two-shoes and their house points. I'm not a prefect (thank the lord) because I am quite the opposite. I break rules left, right and center. But hey, I think I've only been caught out by prefects or teachers about twice.

I try not to get noticed by other students either. I'm not like James Potter or Fred and Roxanne Weasley. I keep my head down. In class I don't speak up, I sit at the back, I don't draw attention to myself. I don't let people get close to me. Let's say that I'm not someone that you'd find having a good ol' chat with some random third year in the middle of the corridor. I think I scare a lot of people, to be honest. I guess I'm not their usual type.

That's fine by me.

I hang around with a select group of people. Blake Thomas, Emmett Hart, Noah de Rosnay, Felicity Ellis and sometimes lil' Scorpius Malfoy will tag along, even if he is a fifth year. I like to think that people don't realise we're there. They don't see us in the common room. They generally don't see us in the Great Hall. They won't see us in the courtyard or the Entrance Hall where most popularity obsessed teens flock to. I think that between us all there are about twelve people who recognise us. I'm positive three of the four other people in my dorm have forgotten my name and are probably too scared to ask for it again. That's the way I like it.

-x-

I wake up early in the mornings. It's not that I'm a morning person 'cause I'm actually quite the opposite. It's just that I pushed my bed right to the edge of the room in second year, so I could assemble my bookcase (the type with the square holes in) as a barrier between me and the rest of the dorm and as well as being directly under a window, meaning I always get hit with the first light, my bed is closest to the door. An extremely good thing for my sneaking out habits and stuff but not so great when the early birds in the tower tramp down the stairs which is directly through the wall.

Over the years, I've managed to fence my area quite well. My dorm mates took my lead late into fourth year as everyone became more private. Now they too have some shallow magical wardrobes propped against their neighbour's and things of the like, but I far outstrip them. I only have one place from where you can see into my area and that gets hidden when the door is open. I don't think my dorm mates mind. They don't notice me half the time anyway and I think it's been years since we've talked, apart from the scarce "how was your holiday?" at the beginning of term. It suits me fine. Especially after we learnt long-lasting soundproofing charms in fourth-year. Unfortunately the wretched early-risers can somehow pierce through my safety blanket.

So here I am lying down cursing whoever woke me this time as the morning light streams onto my face. I might as well get up. I don't take to getting caught in my dorm's mad seven-thirty panic.

I slip out of bed and pad across to the bathroom. I haven't woken my dorm mates in all my time of doing this. I perfected the silent foot way back when I had just turned twelve.

After showering I change into my uniform. _It's Friday_, I tell myself. _You're almost there. Hogsmeade weekend too. _So I apply normal makeup. And when I say normal makeup, I mean _my_ normal makeup. It's not what everyone would wear for school every day. I like my eyes rimmed with black. And a hell of a lot of it. I taper it out into a smoky eye most days and use eyeliner and mascara to finish it off. I cover up the bags under my eyes and put on my dark lipstick, covering it all with the new magical ten-hour smudge/wear protection cream I bought in the summer. Finally, I spritz my scent on (musky, sweet and mysterious, I like to think), clean my things away and retreat back to my bed.

I check my phone before I get any further. Who would I have to call? To text? That's what you're thinking, aren't you? I'm glad you asked.

I got my friends hooked on phones and Facebook way back in third year. I also have a lot of muggles I text who I meet every summer and people from around town. So yeah, I'm not antisocial, although that's probably what I sound like from the description. I just feel that Hogwarts is one big popularity contest and the Weasley/Potter family think they own it. Or maybe I just don't fit in. That's probably more likely.

Anyway, I grab my bag, my iPod, phone and things for class and head out of Gryffindor tower, receiving an intense scowl on my way. One of the early risers and someone who actually knows who I am is Verity Faulkner. To say she doesn't like me would be a complete understatement. She's the epitome of good. She's a prefect, get's all the perfect grades, has never touched a drink, won't go any further than first base, etc, etc. Get the picture? Well every morning she glares at me and my uniform, which I'll admit, is hardly up to 'standard.'

I wear military boots instead of the school's shoes as directed, I my school tights are completely ripped, my school skirt lands just above mid-thigh, my white school blouse is too ruffled and the buttons are required to be done up a bit more. My robes are frayed around the edges and torn almost artfully in places, my tie is usually slung around my neck rather than actually done up, I exceed the jewelry limit significantly, my nose piercing is definitely not in the uniform handbook and my hair (a striking black with deep red dip-dyed tips) is usually left out and mussed. So yeah it's no wonder that Verity isn't the fondest of me, I guess.

The morning chill hits me in the face as the Fat Lady lets me through and I head off to the kitchens. I don't eat in the Great Hall. Too much drama, too many squealing girls. Also, after Blake discovered the kitchens, we realised no one knew where it was so it was quieter and just had a generally better atmosphere. Felicity (I like to call her Flit) joins me on most occasions. In fact she's there before me this morning.

"Hey Lena," she says, not looking up from her _Prophet_, peroxide blonde hair in her eyes. I grunt back at her.

Bobble, my favourite house elf, appears next to me as I sit down on the edge of the kitchen's Gryffindor table.

"What would Miss Elena like Bobble to get her for breakfast today, miss?"

"Some toast and eggs will be fine, thanks Bobble,' I say smiling at her.

"Of course Miss Elena! Right away," she squeaks and scurries away.

"Not eating a full breakfast this morning then?" asks Flit, still engrossed in the paper.

"Ngh. Not feeling that great."

"Told you that you shouldn't've gone out last night. Bet Emmett's the same. Where'd you go anyway?"

"Shrieking Shack. And Noah ended up coming too." She sighs.

"Can I ever keep you guys in for one night?"

I laugh, "You can try Flit, but I doubt it. Besides, you come out with us half the time." Felicity is like the good-girl of our friends. Well, hardly a good-girl, but she's the best behaved of us all. I guess that's not saying much though.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, if you're still planning on getting hired tonight, you better get you're priorities in order."

"Psh! I need to get my sweet talking in order to get hired tonight. It _is _the Hog's Head, Flit."

"What are you going to do if one of the Professors turns up on one of your shifts then?"

"Please. Like any of those oldies are gonna go to the Head!"

Okay, let me fill you in. I'm broke. My mum doesn't understand how to exchange muggle money and even if she did, we don't really have a lot to spare; my Mum and me. So I started scouting Hogsmeade for jobs. And, well, the ideal one came up. The Hog's Head is on the edge of town, far away from where students are supposed to go. It has been renovated since the days of the War. It's now a chic, up-market bar which capitalizes on the part it played under the ownership of Aberforth Dumbledore. There are memorabilia items scattered all over the joint. It's the pride and joy of one Mr. Bruce Smith, a man who is very lax with most things in life. So he's prepared to hire me, knowing full well that I'd be doing it without permission. At least I'm already seventeen so I'm allowed to be serving alcohol. He has said he's pretty much already given me the job but he's going to give me a trial run tonight.

But yeah, I doubt any of the teachers are going to be visiting the Hog's Head on their day off. It's too trendy for them. Too many young people.

Transfiguration is as boring as ever, Professor McGonagall is as strict as ever and James Potter is as annoying as ever.

He's sitting in front of me today, something I could live without. I have Transfiguration with Blake; fellow Gryffindor, and Noah; Slytherin. We're in the back row and beside me they're scribbling on their parchment absentmindedly as McGonagall harps on about some shite about pigs and desks. Potter in front of me is taking no measures to keep the noise down, getting steadily louder as the lesson progresses. McGonagall is sending looks at him, angrier by the minute. Next to him is one of his fangirls, Rebecca someone, and on the other side is his cousin and best friend, Fred Weasley. He is confirming my belief, yet again, that he is an obnoxious prat. Finally, McGonagall gives him detention. Then the lesson ends.

Blake, Noah and I wait for everyone to scramble out while we shove things into our bags. McGonagall starts berating Potter as we leave our desks. I get out my phone and open Flit's text. She just had Herbology with the Ravenclaws and she's complaining about how boring it was. My thumbs fly across my phone as I start texting her back, deciding to check Facebook at the same time.

I've tuned out of my surroundings and Noah and Blake's conversation as I lag slightly behind … so I'm extraordinarily surprised when I walk smack bang into something in front of me. I even fall back on my ass (that is _so_ gonna bruise) and the contents of my bag fly everywhere. Great.

Through my suddenly hazy vision, I see Noah and Blake turn around. But closer in proximity is a looming figure who I assume is peering down at me.

It's James Potter.

Ugh. Why? Why me? I make a job to stay away from these people and this is how I'm repaid?

"Look where you're going, love," he said arrogantly. I raise my eyebrow at him and then tilt my head, narrowing my eyes threateningly. He doesn't get a chance to respond as Noah comes up behind him and fastens his grip around Potter's shoulder. Potter swings around, giving me a chance to gather my stuff and compose myself with as much dignity as possible.

Okay, let me bring you up to speed: Noah de Rosnay is one scary dude. He is tall, buff, tattooed, and intimidating. Well, he's got the whole tall, dark and handsome thing going on as well but it's so hard for people to see through the scary that it's not regularly noticed. He claims that he was sorted into Slytherin based on his amazing looks and threatening abilities. I say that's rubbish. It's 'cause of his boasting. Because really, underneath, he's just a normal nice guy.

But anyway, it's no wonder that Potter took a small, sharp step backwards when he saw who he was dealing with. Of course, he didn't know _who_ it was. Just that he was bigger than him. A smirk fell into place on my face. Blake, behind Noah, was looking suavely nonchalant, if anything bored.

"I wouldn't be doing that if I were you, _Potter_," Noah says through clenched teeth. Potter glares at him for a while, tension building in the echoing corridor. He then snaps his gaze back at me and his eyes flash.

"How much do your bodyguards cost per hour?" he says snidely. I bit my lip angrily and tried to stop the growl I could feel in my throat. I refuse to answer him. I'm not shy but I don't feel he deserves my words. Let him think what he may, I want to remain a mystery and if that turns out impossible, to appear as edgy as can be. So I simply raise my eyebrow, thumb stroking my phone and just wishing that he would leave and forget it all.

Behind Potter, Blake rolls his eyes and opens his phone. Noah still has a hand on Potter's shoulder and now they look like they're having a glare off. I sigh and make a face at Blake to which he nods back at me. Noah can really get a little too … masculine sometimes. In the sense that he feels the need to defend everything and all that shite. I, too, open my phone again and peruse through my messages.

After a while, Potter finally shakes Noah's grip and brusquely spins around, glaring at me now. I simply look up at him (I hate how all the guys are taller than me now) with no expression on my face.

"What's that?" he snarls; now scowling at my phone. I can't help but let a small chuckle through. Come on! I mean it's so sad that all these witches and wizards are so ignorant of the life of social networking! But it's not like I'm going to enlighten any more of them, least of all James Potter. And the way he asked me? Huh. Respect, mate.

So instead of replying I nod at him coldly in departure, swiftly walk around him and follow Blake and Noah to our next class, one that we are about fifteen minutes late for already. Shite.

I don't look around to see if Potter's still there. I don't care really. But I didn't hear any footsteps so I gather he was.

Flit gave us heaps of shite once we were chastised by Professor Vector.

"Aren't you guys always telling me to keep my head down and go unnoticed? Aren't you the ones reminding me every hour that we only get away with half the stuff we do because no one knows who we are? Aren't you-"

"Yeah, yeah, Flit. They get it," says Emmett from beside her, waving his hand at her. He's really the only one who can shut her up. Bloody talent, that is. "I reckon the only reason you guys didn't get detention was 'cause Vector doesn't actually know who you are."

We all laughed at that.

Flit calmed down and alternated between note taking and doodling and we all relaxed; Blake, Noah and I unwinding from our strange run in with Potter.

**AN: Thanks for checking this out! (: It would mean the world to me if you could spare me a review because that would mean love and feedback and quicker updates?  
****Love you all!  
XOXO  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Lessons went by normally for the rest of the day, Emmett still nursing a headache but apart from that everyone was in good spirits. James Potter didn't bother any of us and I'm fairly certain that he'd forgotten the encounter in the hallway. When I walked by him later on, his eyes showed no recognition as he looked up briefly.

But on to more pressing matters: my job interview.

It was already six-thirty and my interview was in half an hour so I was starting to make my way to the Whomping Willow. There is a passageway between the roots of the tree that leads straight to the Shrieking Shack. The Shack is where we like to hang out when we need some time off. It's also on the very edge of Hogsmeade, quite close to the Hog's Head and seeing as that was where I was headed, I pushed the knot on the tree that Blake found in third-year and slipped through the opening.

I was wearing something smarter than my usual attire today. I had on short black ankle boots, a white blouse, a black pencil skirt and patterned tights. I'd taken out most of my ear piercings and I had pulled my hair up into a high ponytail with a quiff at the front. I felt completely ridiculous. Emmett had actually had to stifle a giggle when he saw me. I glowered back at him. I wasn't exactly looking preppy and sweet but nevertheless, it had caused a chuckle.

I needed this job. I needed to think about my future and what I was going to do for living and fees and bills when I graduated, which wasn't too far off. I could stay with my mum but we both knew that it was going to be hard for her to sustain us both, what with the extra groceries and things. Summers were pretty sketchy at my house and I would regularly pop on over to Flit's just to give my mum a break. I could tell that it really broke her heart that she couldn't let me have the 'normal teenage life.' Mum and me, we're close. It's almost like we're sisters or something. She is the absolute best at respecting my choices and treating me like an adult, which I greatly appreciate. Because I don't see her very much due to being at school and things, my phone makes it extra helpful. But even that costs money, a stash that is exponentially dwindling.

So here we are, back to the job that I really needed.

I took a deep breath and pulled open the heavy wooden door.

Considering it was barely hitting seven, the place was surging with life. Chatter and laughter rang through the joint. A sleek, shiny black bar ran one half of one of the walls and around the corner, out of sight. Two people were already serving drinks and in the corner booth I could spy a crowd of about ten, probably here for a celebration, with half of them already drunk. Club music was drifting in from an open door to the right, the bass not very loud, I assumed because it was early in the night.

Weaving my way through the armchair-ed tables, I made my way up to the bar, getting more nervous with every step. The _very_ attractive, brown-haired, blue-eyed bartender (who looked barely a few years older than me) came up to me and gave me a smile. I smiled tentatively back.

"What can I get you?" he asked in a smooth voice. I couldn't help smirking just a bit.

"The manager, please," I said teasingly. He looked a bit shocked for a second before smiling more.

"Ah, you must be the interviewee. Nice to meet you, I'm Dylan," he said offering me his hand. We shook without breaking eye contact and my smirk developed just a little bit more.

"Elena," I replied.

"I'll just get Bruce for you. Would you like a drink?"

"I'm good thanks."

"Okay," he said, still looking at me before turning around very slowly and walking to the employees door.

"Hey! Dylan! What about me?!" yelled the old man I hadn't noticed next to me.

"Oh shush Barry! We both know you're gonna be here all night, no need to rush," Dylan yelled back as he exited the room.

The bartender who was round the side came back, rolling his eyes, and topped up Barry's drink. He looked in his thirties but he too had a certain rugged handsomeness to him. He gave me a wink and went back down the bar again to tend to a very drunk looking lady clutching a martini glass.

"Elena Baydose, is it?" came a deep voice from behind me. I swung around to see Mr. Bruce Smith. He was slightly tubby and turning a bit grey but with his suave suit and big smile, he looked distinguished and refined.

"That's me," I said, nervous again. "It's nice to meet you."

He shook my hand as well, never stopping his grin.

"Yes, pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," he joked. I could tell I was going to like him already. "Now, come sit down."

He led me to a quiet two-seater table and we sat down. He still hadn't stopped his grin.

"Well, let's get down to business. Resumé?"

"Right here," I said, producing it and sliding it across the table to him.

"Good, good! Ooh! Mobile number I see. Muggleborn, I presume?"

"Yes, sir."

"No need for the sir, dear me! I'm not that old!"

"I beg to differ," came a familiar voice as it wandered past, with incredibly impressive biceps I might add.

"Oh go away Dylan!" Bruce replied playfully, evidently enjoying the banter with his staff. He very suddenly turned serious and leaned forward. "Anyway! Because you're a Hogwarts student, not that I mind, we just need to make sure that all things are sorted out. If you weren't seventeen yet, I wouldn't be hiring you but being in school, working at a bar? What are your thoughts…?"

If I do say so myself, the interview went rather well. It was as if Bruce had already decided on hiring me and was trying to iron out the details and logistics. Although he was aware that I was breaking a few school rules, he was adamant that everything else was completely in order. I had made clear that if push came to shove, I would take the fall for everything but he had maintained that although he doubted it would happen, he would take responsibility as "I am the most responsible one in this joint." To which Dylan scoffed at as he went past and gave me a tantalizing wink.

After Bruce had wrapped up, he asked me to come in again the next day, which I would happily comply with.

"Be on guard tomorrow! I might just test you!" Bruce warned as I was about to leave.

"On what?" I had asked.

"Mixing drinks." Oh. Yeah, that would make sense.

And that brings us to here, 1am in the Shrieking Shack, mixing drinks with Blake, Emmett (Mitt), Noah, Flit and Scor.

"Aw, come on! Hit me with a Cosmopolitan!" giggled Mitt.

"Seriously, Hart?" guffaws Noah. "That is _such_ a girly drink!"

"Live a little, de Rosnay."

"Guys, I am _not _making you martinis. Dream on. We don't even have any juice."

"Alright, just a shot then." I sighed at Blake as he said that. All Blake drinks is vodka and firewhisky, nothing else, which makes it hard to practice on him.

I didn't drink anything because it would be a hell of an inconvenience to have a killer hangover tomorrow but Mitt, Flit and Scor were far gone. I decided to stop making stuff because they were all going to blame me in the morning.

On Hogsmeade weekends, we usually visit first thing and then stay at school for the rest of the day because it is quiet and we don't have to avoid people. Then, at night, we go out again. Of course, this time I would be going to the Head whilst everyone else went round the corner to the mangy old club that practically no one knew about. We only went there because the owner thought we had graduated so we could do whatever we wanted. Most of the time we didn't drink.

Verity Faulkner probably thought that I went to intense raves every night and shagged every boy in sight and did all the drugs in the world and got arrested every other weekend but I didn't. I liked to spend my time around the people I feel comfortable with. In fact, the only person I know who had been arrested was Noah and that was once for vandalism, during his 'shaky phase', as I like to call it. He likes to remind us all of how badass he is with that story but then Blake tells him that it is such a terrible example because he only half-keyed someone's car, but then again Blake is hard to please. Then Noah complains about ruining his fun and Flit and Mitt (yes we do tease them about their rhyming names all the time) start giggling and flirting with each other for no reason and then deny any sort of more-than-friends relationship when we pick them up on it.

I found myself thinking of the Hog's Head again as Flit and Mitt did their drunken flirty thing and Noah, Blake and Scor started singing.

Dylan was someone who interested me. He seemed to have everything I found attractive: pretty eyes, hot torso/body, playful demeanour and confidence. If I really did have this job, which it seemed like I had (touch wood), I would be spending a lot more time with him. Because of school and everything, I would have to work Friday, Saturday and Monday night shifts (the lazy day). I would also be cheaper to hire on Friday/Saturday because it would be double time and as I'd be the youngest, I would cost the least. I just hoped that Dylan would be working those nights too…

I was lost in these and similar thoughts when an almighty crash rang from the tin of the roof. Squealing, all six of us grabbed a bottle and legged it from the room and up the passage. Mitt stopped halfway and just started laughing in his drunken haze whilst the rest of our hearts were going a mile a minute. Slowly, I realised that it had started to rain and that noise was most likely a fallen tree branch or something. With the stories about that place, you could never tell. A tiny giggle escaped my lips and then I was full on laughing with Mitt. Soon enough every one of us were cracking up and I leaned on Noah for support. He looked at me fondly and stroked my hair once as he kept on chuckling softly.

All of a sudden, I felt incredibly tired. It felt like something that had been creeping up on me for a while and had only been unleashed by the pure happiness that I felt at that moment. I lagged behind as we started to trek up to the tree and my sleepiness was weighing me down.

The last I remember is Noah securing an arm around my waist as I slipped on a stray root…

I woke up in a familiar bed but I could tell that it wasn't mine. For a start, there wasn't an endless supply of light infiltrating my vision and for another, I felt nowhere near as claustrophobic as usual. When I opened my eyes, the first thing that registered was green. Slytherin. Just as I realised this, an arm that was around my waist shifted and a snore sounded behind me.

Noah. I breathed a sigh. For a second, I'd thought that it was perhaps Scorpius but then I scanned my surroundings and my eyes came into contact with the usual posters and strewn clothes. I was comfortable in Noah's bed because I had woken up here many times before. Not in the sexual way, although we _had_ once done… yeah *cough* you know. But anyway! What I was trying to say was that Noah and I were close enough to do this without any awkwardness. Sometimes when the girls in my dorm had a 'dorm party,' I would come down here to sleep so that I wouldn't be in the way. Not that they'd notice anyway but it was the sentiment really.

Noah was the first person I became actual friends with at Hogwarts. For the beginning of my first year, I had established myself, unintentionally, as reclusive. 99% of the people my age were too focused on fitting in and finding besties and forming groups and being popular that I'd sort of blended into the background. No one was too fussed on making an effort to get to know the quiet, unusual girl. You could say that I was a wallflower, I suppose. After the first week I had come to terms with the idea that I was going to have trouble making friends. I had never been the most open and friendly person, rather closed off really. It had something to do with my dad but let's not go there right now.

What I'm trying to tell is the story of how Noah and I met. I had taken to sneaking around the school at night; to amuse myself in my solitude and so that I could learn the ins and outs of the castle. This was particularly useful in later years. I had inadvertently discovered countless passageways and portrait tricks (with the assistance of the portraits themselves) and one night I decided to try out the infamous 'Room of Requirement.' I did exactly as my friend the hermaphrodite from the second floor told me but it wasn't working and I was getting quite frustrated and upset at my misleading information. Well, then, I didn't realise that it couldn't work with someone else already using it, or had the faintest idea that anyone else _would_ know about it, apart from the students who talked to the loudmouthed portraits. So did I get the shock of my life when a first-year Slytherin came barreling out from the wall and smack-bang into me.

Eleven years old and completely adorable and naïve, Noah was wide-eyed with no tattoos, no piercings, no 'criminal record' and no attitude. I'd even go as far to say that he was shy! No, seriously he was.

He was all stuttering, trying to apologise and being me I rolled my eyes and just looked at him so he shut up and started blushing instead. We eyed each other off for a second, seemingly sizing each other up.

"So …" I'd said awkwardly, looking around shiftily. "What were you doing in there?"

"What? Oh- in-wait-there?"

"Yeah …"

"Just … you know … looking around."

"Oh yeah. Well … um me too …"

And _that_, ladies and gentlemen, was the spark that ignited our long-standing friendship. I offered to share my discoveries of the castle in exchange for his and soon enough we were meeting up every night and becoming … friends. Noah was the first person who ever really got me (apart from Mum), and yes I know that sounds cliché. From the very beginning, I felt that I could finally open up to someone, trust someone and enjoy life with someone without having to worry about them judging me.

Some pretty messed up stuff happened with his dad and his brother during third year that left him bitter about just about everything for a long while. He started lashing out and by the time summer came around, he was dead set on causing trouble. Instead of meeting me and Flit at night (we all lived near each other), he would tag along with a random gang and join in for the thrills. Needless to say, it was a rocky summer. When school time came again, it took almost the entire year until he was acting less delinquent-y.

But as I snuggled closer into his snoring chest, thinking about how I really should get going if I wanted to slip in without attracting major attention, I knew I was glad that I made friends with one little itty-bitty Noah de Rosnay almost seven year ago.

_AN:_  
**Hi there! I'm sorry, I know, no James this chapter ): There will be more though! Most definitely in the next chapter (: Elena is a very complex character and I need to give everyone a bit of a starting point to go on.  
****What I imagine Noah's tattoos to be like: google image "Heath Braxton". Not an entire character reference, just tattoos.  
****Shout out to Videsa for being the first reviewer! Thank you for your wise words (:  
****Please let me know what you think! Even if its just something like 'meh it was average', please still review because I love feedback!  
****XOXO**

**V**

**V**

**V**


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: Language in this one.**

I swung myself out of Noah's bed as he grunted and rolled over; me now out of his range.

He had it lucky to be in the dorm he was in: his dorm mates were considerate (i.e they let him have his space) and quiet (i.e brooding). There were only two other people in his space because the twins in his dorm had dropped out after OWLs to go learn broom-making or something. One of the guys was _always_ in the dorm. He had dirty blonde, long hair and he would be sitting on his bed in the corner almost every single time I came in. I didn't know his name. The other guy was called Reed and his part of the room was an explosion of band posters and Wizarding Wirelesses and magazines. I very occasionally chatted with Reed because I respected his good choice in music and he was good at keeping his mouth shut. Both of them were still asleep when I got up.

Noah's bed was nearest the door, fortunately for me and After dressing myself in the same clothes as the night before and whacking my hair in a much needed ponytail, I slipped from the room and down the stairs. It must have been excruciatingly early this morning because the Slytherins, who were a bunch of really early risers (unlike Gryffindor and Hufflepuff) were completely absent from their common room. I heaved a big sigh of relief.

Using several shortcuts on my way to the opposite end of the castle, I arrived at Gryffindor tower in no time. I grumbled the password at the Fat Lady, whilst she gave me very demeaning and derogatory stare. Like she's not used to it now.

I made no effort to be quiet as I clambered through the portrait hole because I assumed that no Gryffindor, even Little Miss Verity Faulkner, would brave such early hours of a Saturday morning.

Oh how wrong I was.

"Well, well, well," a voice sneered from my left, a voice that I recognised and utterly despised. For a few moments I stood there, breathing deeply to calm myself down and refusing to look at him. "What _have_ we here?"

I was right. Looking across there was James-Bloody-Potter in an armchair with his feet on a table. I silently fumed. Why? Why, I ask you? Of all the people in the castle, it had to be him! Must I yell my aversions from the turrets or are you well aware of them, cruel fate?

Although I tend not to deem him worthy of a response, I instinctively replied, "Oh look, we have a creepy little bastard lurking in a corner." I don't know what propelled me to say it and it was far from witty but the look on his face was absolutely worth it. Stop, Elena! You are sabotaging all you have worked for since you were a first-year, dimwit!

"Ah, so she speaks. Where are your bodyguards today?" Oh god, he made me angry.

"I gave them a day off," I said derisively. He cracked a mocking smirk and got up from his seat, walking closer to me. I decided to head up to my dorm now, having enough of this jolly old conversation with Potter. I needed to text Flit about today.

"I wasn't done," came a growl behind me. Astonished that he'd had the gall to believe he could say that to me, I turned around again.

"Well I was," I said roughly, turning away again.

Clearly getting angrier by the second, he said, "Who was the guy you were shagging then? Some Slytherin wanker, I'm guessing. Or maybe there was more than one. I wouldn't be surprised, seeing as it is _you_." Oh no he didn't! That little asshole! I whipped around and stepped closer to him, about to have a bloody good scream at him, despite my disinclinations, when Blake unexpectedly appeared next to me. I hadn't even noticed him enter the room.

Bleary eyed and looking slightly hungover, he pushed me behind him, evidently trying to prevent me doing something I'd regret and for that I appreciated it. But seriously, he knew I could take care of myself!

Considering it was Blake, I predicted that he would walk away as quickly as he had come, to pull me away from Potter or something but for once in his life, Blake decided to do a Noah. I watched in amazement as Blake got up in Potter's face. Both of them were glaring mutinously at each other.

"Dare come near her again…" Blake threatened rather well I might add, for never really doing it properly before, "and you will seriously regret every word that's come out of your diseased mouth."

It was interesting to see Blake go all macho. Tall and lean but rather muscly, he could look quite intimidating when he wanted to.

But Potter was not going to let this slide. I could practically see his pride surge up and take control of him.

"This him, then?" he directed at me but he was still looking at Blake. "This one and the tattooed one, all in one lovely night, eh?"

Blake stepped dangerously close to Potter and the look in his eyes told me that we needed to flee the scene ASAP. What had gotten into him?!

"You know Potter," I said in a falsely sweet voice. Still neither of them were looking at me. Oh for god's sake! "It intrigues me that you try so hard to insult me and rile me up because you know nothing and care nothing about me. I bet you all the galleons in Gringott's that you don't know my name. Or what year I'm in. Or that, unfortunately for me, I am in a whopping five of your classes. So if you would kindly take your _enormous_ head out from your fat ass and leave us alone, it would be very much appreciated."

Again - not one of my cleverest moments.

For a second, he looked dumbstruck at me and I seized the opportunity to drag Blake away. As he couldn't get to my dorm, I took him back to his, muttering under my breath all the way about stupid guys and their stupid territorial shit.

Blake silently raged as we made our way up the staircase. I made the wise decision to stay quiet. Stomping through his room, he pulled me along into the bathroom and locked the door so that his dorm mates wouldn't interrupt us. Similar to the set up of mine, Blake and his fellow occupants barrier their areas and don't communicate with him. Instead of waking up early, he does the opposite and gets up at the latest time possible as to avoid unwanted encounters.

We sat down on the tiles and Blake leant his head back against the sink, his eyes closed. We remained quiet for a long time.

After a few minutes of this, I became impatient. Usually very stoic and forbearing myself, I had noticed that there had been something off about Blake lately, something that had only very slowly been picked up by my brain and it had only just really hit me … and I was all of a sudden very worried.

Blake was an expert at concealing his emotions. He had the best poker face, best 'I-don't-give-a-shit' face and the best indifferent shrug of all of us. To the last blink of an eyelid, he had it down pat. He internalized a lot of his reactions and in the long run, it was hardly beneficial.

But I knew something was really wrong. Reflecting back on the past few weeks, I realised how stupid and oblivious I had been to all the little clues. His increase in his abuse of alcohol, how angry he had gotten lately, how he had stayed quiet during our usual routines. I felt like the worst friend.

I think he noticed me fixing him a bewildered stare as he decided to break our silence.

"I really do hate Potter with all my fucking heart." He was looking me dead in the eyes.

"Why?" I prompted softly, not daring to set him off right at that moment. He scoffed to himself.

"Because he thinks that he can run the world, own the world, mess with the world, just 'cause he's fucking related to Harry Potter."

"The problem is that people let him," I muttered to myself.

We grew silent again.

"It's not just that, though," Blake whispered this time. I gazed at him in interest. I must reiterate - Blake is not one to show his feelings like a preppy tweenage girl. I nodded at him to go on, scared that if I do something wrong, he'd close up again. "It's that he does actually have it all. How can one person have everything they could fucking want and not even give a shit? What the fuck is the world doing giving arrogant, bigoted bastards like _him _anall you can eat buffet at life and people like us a stingy continental breakfast." It took me a great deal of effort to restrain my smile when he said that.

The story of how I met Blake also had to do loosely with food. At the very end of our first year, two days until the summer holidays, Noah and I slipped in to the Great Hall for dinner, perching ourselves off to one side of the Gryffindor table, near some sixth-years that wouldn't spare us a second glance. Making sure that Noah had taken off any green Slytherin items of clothing just in case someone got all technical on us, we hurriedly piled up our plates. It was at that moment that a boy in my house and year sat across from us, ignoring us completely and taking the last of the potatoes before I could snag them. Not willing to put up a fight and draw attention to myself or scoot down the table for some more and achieve the same result, I pulled a face at Noah and moodily ate the food already on my plate.

Starting to develop his possessive traits, Noah refused to stop glaring at the emotionless Gryffindor for the next ten minutes (excessive I know) and so, not quite as tolerant at the time, Blake seemed to have been so internally agitated that he flicked some of those so sought after potatoes straight at Noah's face.

Tense, charged silence ensued.

Noah was about to make a grab for the gravy and throw it back in his face when I couldn't help but burst into giggles. Both boys turned to me baffled and once I had stopped having a laughing fit, we were all looking at each other with curious, scrutinizing eyes.

"You're not in Gryffindor," were the first words Blake ever said to us.

"Observant," Noah grumbled at him.

"I'm Elena Baydose," I had timidly offered to Blake. Noah looked at me shocked, we had sworn that we would only stick to each other when we became friends. Immediately, Noah was sizing Blake up and shooting him death glares again. Blake bravely ignored him.

"Blake Thomas," he'd replied stiffly back. We both looked at Noah expectantly.

"That's Noah de Rosnay," I had said when it grew obvious that Noah wasn't going to speak.

Blake nodded and then wordlessly took a scoop of the potatoes and put them on my plate. Gross, to think about it now, but a kind offer of friendship all the same.

And so was the awkward beginning of my second friendship at Hogwarts.

Blake had stopped ranting about Potter now but I could tell that there was still something bothering him.

Using my (as I liked to think of it) tactful tone, I asked, "What's bothering you Blake? I'm worried."

His eyes snapped to mine, a little bit of frenzy detectable beneath the façade. We had a bit of a staring match for a while and I was trying to let him know that I wouldn't give up until he told me. I think he got the message as he sighed again and looked to the floor.

"I'm not happy. In fact, I am very, very sad …"

And _that_ marked the moment that Blake informed me of his imminent (or perhaps not so) depression.

I stayed with Blake for most of the morning, relocating to an empty classroom, after I snuck up to my dorm to change, so that the people in his dorm could use their bathroom.

We had texted the others to tell them to do the normal thing without us today and in reply we had received a flurry of alarmed questions and demands. We talked for a very long time, sometimes grudgingly on his part but I knew that it would be a relief to let it out.

There was one thing that he said that really stuck with me because I think it was relevant to not just him or me but to all of our little gang.

He had said, "We're trapped, Lena. I feel like I'm trapped here. I have to sneak, I have to fit my routine around others and I never have time to breathe."

To which I replied, "Do you think that it's our fault?" Meaning not him, but me and Noah and Emmett and even Flit too.

He looked pensive for a moment before he whispered, "Maybe. But I think it's more to do with who we are."

I didn't know what to say to that.

By lunchtime, Blake seemed to be feeling better and so we met up with the others who were all panic. We mentioned nothing, agreeing to deal with it later because I felt that perhaps Blake had had a lot to express today and he may need a small break. The rest had begrudgingly accepted (like they had a choice). Emmett was always the worst with these kind of things. He wanted to know it _all _and he hated when people kept secrets from him. He would be like a small child, whining, nagging and trying to make cutesy faces to get it out of us but it would only make us laugh.

Having missed our chance to go to Hogsmeade that morning, we decided to hang out in the Room of Requirement, playing card games and truth or date (sometimes concurrently) as Flit scurried around trying to finish all of her homework before her and the boys went out for dinner that night.

Oh god, that made me think of my trial tonight. How was I supposed to convince Bruce that I was the girl for the job if I barely knew how to mix a margarita? But … I wonder if Dylan will be there? Hm …

What if I have to do a full shift? Oh shit.

"I dare you to kiss Noah!" cried Emmett, disrupting my panicked thoughts. Mitt liked truth or dare way too much for a seventeen year old guy.

Shrugging, I absentmindedly tilted my head closer to Noah, who was next to me, and we shared a five second snog satisfactory to Mitt's demands without hesitation. Noah went straight back to his phone.

"Truth or dare?" I asked Noah, bored.

"Truth," he replied, not really paying attention.

"Who're you texting?" I asked lamely as Emmett muttered about how it was unfair for us to pick truth because we already knew everything.

"Scorpius and Sophia." Boring! Sophia was his muggle friend that lived down the road from him.

You know what's not boring but in fact downright nerve-racking? My trial tonight.

If I didn't get this job, it would mean that when I left Hogwarts, I would have no money to support myself or Mum in either the Muggle or Wizarding world. I wouldn't be able to even dream of going to a college or university, even on a scholarship or loans. If I didn't get this bloody job, I would have to take at least a year off to get me on my feet before I could even think about moving on with my life. How dreary is that? I wouldn't be able to pay for my phone, or an owl or the Floo or the Internet and there goes my way of communicating with my friends. I wouldn't be able to renew my apparation license when it's due next September or afford books, food, clothes, bills, anything!

So pretty much, as I see it now, it's this job or nothing.

I really need to make a good impression here.

Oh no what am I going to _wear_?!

"FLIT!"

AN:  
**I'm so sorry that this chapter is so disgustingly ended and unedited and badly written due to coffee and it being 12am already. Like seriously, this is the worst chapter I've written everrr :(  
****A few questions to pose to you all:****Would anyone like to see a James POV, perhaps in a chapter or two's time? Possibly a bit of an intro into **_**his**_** life at Hogwarts and insight on his view of Elena&co.? Let me know!  
****Also, what does everyone think of the characters so far? Particularly Elena and James …  
****On another note, I thought I might let you know that if I ever get round to casting this fic, I would choose Taylor Momsen to act as Flit (:  
****Please, please, please send a **_review_** my way! All types of feedback appreciated (:  
****Until next time!  
XOXO**

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	4. Chapter 4

**IMPORTANT**** Elena and co are now in 7****th**** year! Not 6****th**** year. I decided to change it because my ages were all out of sync :/ ****seventh-year**

**(Not edited so sorry in advance for mistakes!)**

Emmett and Felicity came as a package deal.

Deep into second year, Noah was hideously sick had been confined to his dorm for at least four days. It was a Friday and Blake and I were getting ready for our day of classes and debating whether we should owl him. On our way to Herbology, scarves and cloaks pulled tightly around us, we ended up shuffling behind a quiet pair, one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff, as we all descended the slippery, icy steps to the greenhouse. Blake was trying to finish off his toast at the same time as fastening up his cloak and adjusting his books. As a result he wasn't looking where he was going and with his natural twelve-year-old grace slipped on a particularly steep step and went tumbling into the pair in front of us.

After an assortment of tangled limbs it ended up that Blake was lying on his back, crushing the petite girl underneath him at least twenty steps away from where the Hufflepuff boy and I were standing. Immediately he ran down, pushed off Blake; who was looking mighty confused and groaning, and made sure the girl was alright. By the time that I had steadily reached their point, Blake and the boy had started snapping at each other. Blake was uncharacteristically grumpy because his toast had been ruined and the Hufflepuff didn't seem to be the one to back down.

The girl, who had very pale skin and shiny blonde hair, glanced up at me as I approached and gave me a hesitant grimace. I studied her for a short while, sort of intrigued. Usually I would have dragged the boys away from their escapades and rolled my eyes inconspicuously but I had never noticed this girl before.

In your first few years at Hogwarts there was no evading the fact that you basically knew who everyone was; in your grade and in all of the grades above you. Although I had carefully avoided social detection for the most part, I was not exempt from knowing all of the faces I glimpsed. It was perhaps my role as a wallflower that made me all the more surprised that I had no idea who this strange pair were. I distantly remembered seeing them a few times in Herbology but apart from that I had no name, nothing.

She was very pretty, once you could actually see her face. Her fringe pretty much covered her eyes in one bold line. Her freckles were faint but perfectly spaced across her straight nose. She looked back at me with the same amount of interest in her blue eyes. The boy had returned next to her. He too had blonde hair, a little more golden than hers, and a look of curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

From behind me, Blake nudged my shoulder to get me to walk to class again and stay under the radar. Too late, I thought.

A small faint cough from the girl caught everyone's attention. With a shy, nervous smile hesitantly gracing her lips, she muttered, "Want to walk to class … um … together … ?"

Without me even realising it, a smile stretched across my lips and the girl and I started tiptoeing down the icy steps side by side.

"Felicity," she muttered, her teeth starting to chatter.

"Elena," I had murmured back. She nodded and looked to the boys behind us.

"Emmett," the blond-haired boy whispered, his voice almost floating away with the shrieking wind.

Blake didn't say anything and no one bothered to ask his name.

Blake and Noah took until summer holidays to become real friends with Flit and Mitt. By that time I was extremely grateful that I had a female friend to rely on as well. It wasn't too long until the three guys were practically blood brothers. Third year was when Flit finally won over Blake and by helping me help Noah through his 'shaky phase' she made peace with him as well. Don't get me wrong, we still all hung out together and went to the Shack and had fun and everything. It was simply a little tense between Flit and Noah for a while. He wasn't really in the mindset to welcome new people into his life and seeing as he had been very wary with her to begin with, it intensified.

Anyway! Yeah so Mitt and Flit joined the ranks in second year. We've teased them about getting married ever since.

The trial went well and Bruce gave me the job. We signed all these forms and everything and settled pay at closing time but I couldn't help feeling disappointed. Dylan had been helping me out with getting everything done and he was very professional. A little too professional for my taste.

Okay, don't get me wrong, I completely understand that I was there for a job and that my duties don't include getting flirty with my coworkers but Dylan didn't even wink at me. To me it felt like a complete one-eighty since the night before. In some ways it felt like he was annoying me. Example was when I was taking a tray to the corner booth and asked him whether the deadly pink artificial looking one was really for the enormous knucklehead talking over everyone else at their table. All I got in response was.

"Yeah." And then he walked off. Well, bye.

On another note, I met a lot of the rest of the staff. I probably wouldn't meet the rest of them because I was on the busy night rotation and the others were hired for the other nights. The DJ was the coolest. His name was Dominic Beats, and I kid you not that was his _real_ name. His DJ name was shortened to Dom Beats 'cause he thought it sounded like "'dem beatzz" or something slang like that. We laughed together for a while when Bruce took hiatus on introducing me to people to talk to one of the customers. I was very surprised to find out that he was thirty-two. We laughed at that too.

The cleaning lady came in at the end of the night and groaned as she saw that someone had just puked in the bathroom sink. Again.

"You'd think that people would have a little more class!" she'd said. "This is known as the best, most stylish bar in town and yet at one am, in come the idiots who decide to make a fool of themselves and vomit everywhere and moan about their relationships."

Her name was Melinda and she was fourty-three. She took the cleaning job as a part-time thing to keep her busy and so that she doesn't 'go crazy stuck in the house looking after those rascal kids all day'. She was overbearing but nice. She'd complimented me on getting the job before she went home and told me that I suited it nicely, which I took well. She'd hurriedly clarified that she didn't mean I suited the vomit in the bathroom sink.

Georgiana was the other bartender that worked with me. She was kind but terse and to be honest I was sort of scared of her. Apparently she started earlier than Dylan and so she got off at midnight rather than when we had to boot out the last customer.

Dylan was gone before I could say goodbye. I was slightly offended. Workplace romance rules aside, it would have been nice to have had a brief nod of the head. We were coworkers now.

I got back to my dorm at about four am after a narrow escape with the caretaker. The bleary-eyed Fat Lady was only awake for the second it took to swing open and shut again before I could hear her snoring away. Her substandard measures of security always seemed to work in my favour.

I had to creep past a sleeping body in the common room, which I realised was Potter's once I got to the foot of the girls' stairs. He slept weirdly; face down, looking like he could barely breathe. I hoped he couldn't breathe.

It was only last year that Potter _really_ started to get on my nerves.

In fourth year, Flit wanted to try out for the Quidditch team. We all knew she was amazingly good and she had stayed up with me countless nights just discussing what she should do. She knew that by playing for Ravenclaw she would jeopardize what we had worked years at building. After persuading her to give it a go, she promptly decided to change her mind and it took an entire year to convince her to go for it again.

She was feeling guilty the entire week leading up to the tryouts. We all understood the implications of her spot on the team and we had overlooked them because Felicity was our friend and what kind of friends would we be if we held her back from chasing her (admittedly unspoken) dream.

The big day finally came and Flit jumbled onto the pitch nervously and blended into the crowd. She got to the last round of the chaser tryouts with ease and we were so proud.

It was the last round when things went south.

The captain of Ravenclaw was Louis Weasley and he had asked his cousin, James Potter and second-year Gryffindor captain, to assist him in his first tryouts. Although Weasley looked at the game from a seemingly objective and calculating perspective, Potter judged more on character.

There was now only one spot left for chasers and we (the very few students who got up at the crack of dawn to watch the tryouts) were all surprised to find that Flit still hadn't been picked. Emmett was getting more agitated by the second. Him and Blake were the only ones who followed the sport religiously and understood everything that was going on. Noah was more into football and my love of sport stretched as far as a mile run every other morning.

After a, might I say, magnificent fly, the remaining chasers were gathered to the side and Potter and Weasley approached them. Blake, Mitt, Noah and I went silent, waiting for the deliberation. Flit looked petrified. The beaters on the other side looked itching for their turn.

"Okay, our last chaser is …" announced Weasley. He gave Potter an unsure glance and Potter returned with a reassuring nod. Potter looked over the players in front of him as Weasley made the call, "Leigh." Potter surveyed Flit's taken aback expression. He looked her up and down and I swear to Godric, he nodded to himself.

In the stands we stood up in disbelief and rushed down to the changing rooms. Flit had speedily gone to change and get the hell out of there.

Potter turned away with a smirk and started talking to Weasley. Silently I listened to their conversation as I slipped past.

"Good decision, mate," said Potter.

"That blonde one, though. She was good. I dunno, maybe I should-"

"Nah, mate. Do you really want someone like that on your team? She's gonna make trouble you know it. You need a chaser who follows orders and gets the job done. Don't like the look of her."

"Alright…"

If there was ever a moment when I wanted to scream and punch someone in the face it was then.

I stopped walking for a few seconds.

Flit had put everything on the line for this tryout. Afterwards she said that she was relieved she didn't get on because it would have ruined everything for us but I knew how much she really wanted it. She risked everything she (and we) had built, she felt so guilty because she was going for her goal and to be denied her passion because she didn't look like she should deserve the chance?

Blake came back to me at that point and pulled me on. If he hadn't I think I would have blasted the bastard's face off.

This was another point in time when I seriously questioned my decisions at Hogwarts. Who we were had stopped Flit from getting what she really wanted. Why was it so important to me that I stayed in the shadows? Oh that's right: to stay away from the overweening buggers who thought they owned the school and had the right to dictate people's lives.

James Potter was one of them.

Sunday is the usual routine. I woke up early, got a glare from Verity Faulkner and a grumble from the Fat Lady. Flit's not in the kitchens when I get there but Bobble wastes no time in handing me an elaborate plate of pancakes and waffles which I appreciatively devour. I've barely had any sleep but I plan on having an early night tonight so that Flit won't yell at me for being tired.

It's half an hour later when she comes in, groggy and tired herself.

"Hey Lena," she says with a groan.

"Why are you acting like you have a hangover?" I ask while reading _The Daily Prophet._

"I am not and I don't have a hangover, thank you," she says crisply and asks Mingly for a pot of tea and toast. "We only went to the club and got some of their food. I don't know why 'cause we always hate it."

"Ugh, the food there is the worst."

"I think the egg made me feel sick," Flit says, polishing off her toast in a milisecond.

"You don't seem sick," I say causually, motioning to her clean plate.

"Yeah whatever Lena, just shush," she grumbles back.

"You are so hungover; feeling sick, in need of plain food, sensitive to noise … ring a bell?" I laugh at her.

"Am not," is all she says on the topic.

At about one in the afternoon, I decide that I need to get on top of my homework that I had neglected the entire weekend. NEWTs aren't going to pass themselves. Flit comes with me up to the Gryffindor tower as it's on her way.

Remember how earlier I was talking about how much I dislike Potter? Well guess who shows up. Yep, the devil himself. We're almost to the portrait hole when I catch a glimpse of him leaning against a tapestry. His bestie Fred Weasley is probably in the secret passageway behind it and Potter is being _oh so subtle_ about hiding it.

"Why is Potter looking at you?" asks Flit from beside me. Instinctively I snap my head up in panic. Unfortunately she's right. Potter is glaring at me. I start to freak out immediately. I can't seem to avoid popping up on his radar and when your on the Potter-Weasley radar, you're on everyone's radar.

Being the cool cucumber she is, Flit hustles me away, pretending we didn't notice and mumbling that she has to do all the work.

Even as we reach the end of the corridor, I can still feel the imposing gaze of Potter burning into my neck.

This was not good.

**AN:** **Hi! Sorry I haven't updated in forever :( I have been really busy and I probably won't update for a tiny bit but leave me a **_review_** and tell me what you think please! (:****Next chapter should be a James POV. I'm still unsure if it should be on a previous event or it should be up to date so let me know what your thoughts are (: It's not going to be all about Elena, it's going to be like how Elena's are, e.g. about his friends and family life, (but still include her in them) because I don't feel like he is a real character if all he focuses on is Elena.****Thanks goes to ****Lily's Sidekick**** and ****XxAccioNevilleLongbottomxX** **for your reviews ^.^****Anyway sorry for the lapse in updating love you all!****XOXO**

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